


A Date on Seventh Street

by glasshalfempty



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Black Butler - Freeform, Cat Cafés, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grelliam, Old Friends, SebaGrell - Freeform, What is this?, it's fucking gay is what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasshalfempty/pseuds/glasshalfempty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grell supposed that London really hadn't changed all that much over the last one hundred and twenty six years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Date on Seventh Street

**Author's Note:**

> me: has an unfinished bandom fic with 8k hits that hasn't been updated since like march  
> me: writes a 6000-word oneshot about an anime  
> me: just another day in the cornfields
> 
> shoutout to my homie Transistance whose fics are quite incredible and who gave me the motivation to actually finish a writing project for once
> 
> anyways, enjoy

______

Grell supposed that London really hadn't changed that much over the past one hundred and twenty six years.

Of course, there were _some_ differences; the city itself was much larger, the people harsher, the streets cleaner. But the nighttime breeze atop Big Ben was as familiar as the constant ticking of the clock itself, and the sky had the same yellowish-gray tint upon the otherwise dark horizon as it had had the last time Grell had sat upon this little overhanging ledge. That much was the same, at least.

One hundred and twenty six years was a long time to be away from home, but Grell had had duties in the new world. Her advisors had sent her to America as soon as Ciel Phantomhive was gone, and she'd been there for over a century, reaping souls of those who had tried and failed to seek a better life on the new continent. It was a tedious, boring job, and if she was being completely honest, she had quickly grown lonely and homesick in the absence of her city. She had just been finishing up a messy job in Florida when Will had called on her, and she couldn't have been happier to hear from him.

William T. Spears, forever Grell's best friend, lover, and trusted partner, had sent her a message the previous morning requesting backup in tracking down a missing soul. Although she was always grateful to hear from him, Grell hadn't been interested in the job until he mentioned that it was in London. It was with an aching, relieved heart that she gracefully accepted his proposition, tied up the final loose ends at the Florida job, and jumped home. From there, they had met up in Will's office with Ronald, exchanged quick, friendly hugs, and gotten down to business. From what Will had told her, the missing soul's situation sounded like a basic demon deal, but the problem with that conclusion was that there was no records suggesting that the young lady in question might have made any such deal. There was absolutely nothing on file, and nobody in the Records department knew anything about it, so the Collections department was completely baffled. With Ronald's occasional helpful input, Grell and William had discussed other possibilities late into the hours of the evening, and in the end, decided that there was nothing for it but to simply get out into the field and--rather tediously, William made sure they knew--hunt the soul down themselves.

So here Grell was, one hundred and twenty six years since her last day in London, sitting on the familiar old ledge on Big Ben and staring over the dark city she had missed so much while trying not to succumb to the nostalgia of it all.

When Will had mentioned the possibility of a demon deal, of course _he_ had crossed her mind, but only for a fleeting second. The chances of it being him were almost nonexistent, so Grell tried not to dwell on it, but that small part of her that had stayed in London for every second of those one hundred and twenty six years couldn't help but be hopeful. Of course, she hadn't mentioned anything of it to Will, knowing how irritating he could be about the subject ("He's a _demon_ , Sutcliff, honestly, I don't know why you even _remember_ him, he hasn't crossed my mind in a century") and Ronald would never understand ("A demon? What, like, an actual demon? Your _friend_? When? Why?") and, quite frankly, she herself wasn't really sure why she remembered him so well. But, for whatever reason, despite the thousands of demons she had encountered while she was in America, she had never quite forgotten that one in particular. Perhaps it had been because Will had cut her off for a while after the whole Jack the Ripper incident, but to Grell, Sebastian had been her only friend during that time, even if she was using the loosest definition of "friend" there was available. Perhaps she had been infatuated with his life, desperate for an escape from her own dull existence. Perhaps it was just because she was such a hopeless romantic. Perhaps it was simply his good looks.

Whatever the reason, Grell had daydreamed vividly about the possibilities of that night's hunt. She couldn't tell another soul of her hopes, but the nighttime wind on top of Big Ben had always been her confidante when she had secrets to whisper, so while she waited for orders from Will, she murmured her woes into the breeze and went over the file of the soul they were tracking.

Grace "Gracie" Renee Fairbanks, aged seventeen, set to die on July 19th, 2016. 5'7", 162 pounds, brown eyes, brown hair. A plain, average girl, if Grell was being honest. She didn't look like the type to make a deal with a demon, but then, neither had Ciel Phantomhive, and look at where he was now. Besides, Grell knew it was unwise to judge someone on appearance--just take her for an example. She was a walking, talking taboo. As she stared at the picture of the young girl, Grell decided that there was something shifty in her eyes that she didn't care for, and that it was perfectly plausible for her to have made a deal with a demon after all.

Grell began to hum as she flipped through the pages detailing Miss Fairbanks's early life, swinging her feet back and forth into the night as they hung out over the ledge. She tutted in disapproval as she took in the girl's extensive criminal record, from old records of petty theft to the more recent, heavier armed robberies. She leaned back, propping herself up on the battered chainsaw that had been her handy companion for so many years as she read about Gracie's first time trying marijuana, and then cocaine. This girl was quite the stereotype, Grell mused--jumping between foster homes as a child, trying to settle down but having too many issues for any new parents to handle, getting too fucked up as a child to have any sort of teenage experience that wasn't linked to substance abuse, and finally, death. Grell had seen lives just like hers hundreds of thousands of times in the past century, and, truthfully, found her story rather boring. Grell almost wasn't sure why Will was making such a big deal about tracking her soul down. She wasn't remarkable in any way, so what was the big deal if a demon had gotten to her? One more satisfied demon was one less thing on the long list of Things Reapers Had To Worry About.

Of course, to voice such a thing was strictly forbidden, so that thought disappeared into the wind as well.

Grell sat on the ledge for hours, passing the time by singing to herself and recalling old memories of London until finally, the grayish pre-dawn light peeked out over the horizon. She was resolving to the fact that nothing big was going to happen that night at all, so when the giant black mass leapt past her just as the walkie talkie crackled to life, she jumped so hard that she slipped and fell off the ledge. As she hung from her fingertips, boots scraping for a hold, Will's voice spat loudly from the little speaker that until now had been sitting dormant next to the chainsaw.

"--efinitely a demon, wearing a cloak of some kind. Last seen scaling Big Ben, so Grell, if you could get on that--"

"Yes, yes, working on it," Grell muttered as she hauled herself back to safety. She grabbed the walkie and the chainsaw and didn't hesitate before leaping off the ledge towards the man in the long black coat who was hastily climbing down the clock tower.

Her targeting was as precise as ever, and she landed on the man's back with a muffled thump. She sank her nails into his shoulders and held on for dear life as he released his hold on the tower and plunged towards the ground, turning head over tail while freefalling back to earth. Grell squeezed her eyes shut as the city street grew nearer, and at the last second, she was jolted so hard she lost her grip. The demon had caught himself on a balcony a couple stories above the ground, and Grell pinwheeled down for several more feet before finally hitting the pavement with a rush of breath and an "Oof!"

She was back on her feet in an instant, chainsaw at the ready, but so was the demon, and he quickly vaulted over the balcony railing, climbed up the side of the building, and disappeared onto the roof. Grell wasted no time in following him, but he had a head start, and besides, the flannel around her waist had come loose during the fall and was proving to be quite hindering. For a moment she considered losing it, but quickly dismissed the thought--after all, it was the only red item left in her outfit, and she didn't think she could bear being without it just yet. She hastily tightened it and jumped quickly to the top of an awning, and after regaining her balance, leapt to the roof of the nearest building and took off after the demon.

Even though this was just work, Grell couldn't help but bare her teeth in a joyful smile. Oh, how she'd missed the thrill of a good cat-and-mouse chase! Her superiors in America had never given her any exciting jobs like this one. Instead, she'd been handed nothing but hospitals to clear out and the occasional shooting to clean up after. This, though, was where she belonged: chasing demons through the heart of London at five in the morning wearing spandex leggings and thigh-high stiletto boots.

The demon was proving to be quite agile, turning on hairpins and leaping from ledges smaller than Grell would have expected. She herself, however, had prided in being top of her class, and easily matched the demon's abilities with her own. Even out of shape, even the fastest demon was no competition for her.

A flash of gray flew past her, followed seconds later by the whir of a lawnmower. Will and Ronnie had finally caught up to the chase. Grell caught William's eye as he adjusted his glasses with a frown and dashed ahead, trying to cut the demon off and turn him back towards the red reaper, but no such luck; the demon, anticipating the move, dodged to the side and flung himself off of the rooftop down onto the street below.

Will and Ronnie paused, but Grell didn't hesitate. "You lot stay here, I'll go after him!" she cried, and followed the demon off the roof. He was already almost a block ahead when she hit the ground, but she wasted no time in catching up. The two leapt over cars and busses as they flew through the streets, setting off several alarms and inciting many angered shouts from passersby who, even though they couldn't see them, still felt the breeze blow through as the shinigami closed in on the demon.

Grell could tell that the demon was growing tired of the chase, and was ready for it when he turned a sharp corner down a wide alley. She skittered after him and, in a desperate move, raised her chainsaw over her head and launched it at his back.

Her aim was as true as ever, and the chainsaw met its mark, nailing him square between the shoulder blades. It wasn't a deep wound, but proved to slow him down plenty, and Grell caught up to him just as he fell to the ground and tore off his coat, knocking the weapon out with it. She reached for the chainsaw and swung it over her head to deliver the final blow, but froze, body going slack, as she finally glimpsed his face.

Even though part of her had hoped, none of her had dared to actually _expect_ the demon they were chasing to have been him, but, lo and behold, here he was, in the flesh right before her eyes. He was different--taller, thinner, his hair longer--but Grell would recognize those eyes and that _ass_ anywhere. She stared unashamedly as he jumped to his feet, and as he spun around to counter the next oncoming attack, she thrust the chainsaw into the ground, leaned an elbow on it, and fluttered her fingers in a welcoming wave.

"Hello, Bassy. Long time no see."

It stung a bit that it took him several moments to recognize her, but when he did, his face relaxed, shoulders dropping, and she was pleased that he felt comfortable enough around her to let his guard down, especially if he could still remember all of their previous encounters. "Well, I'll be damned. Grell Sutcliff, in the flesh. Yes, I would say it's been a long time. A hundred and--how many years now?"

"Twenty six," Grell supplied quickly, and Sebastian nodded, smiling.

"Yes, that seems about right."

"You have no idea how much I've missed that smile of yours, Bassy," Grell gushed, and to her surprise, Sebastian chuckled.

"I'm terribly sorry to burst your bubble, but I haven't been Sebastian in a long time. That ship has sailed and sunk. I go by Oliver now."

"Oliver." Grell tested it out, but quickly shook her head in dismissal. "No, no way. I'm terribly sorry, dear, but it just doesn't suit you. Sebastian is all I'll ever be able to see you as."

Sebastian sighed dramatically. "Oh, whatever. I suppose it doesn't matter either way. Ciel called me Sebastian, Christopher called me James, Grace called me Oliver. I barely even remember my real name at this point, to be honest."

"Well, you've always been Sebastian to me, so Sebastian you shall continue to be, unless you prefer it another way." When he made no complaints, she continued, "Oh, darling, how I've missed your sweet presence. So many cold nights spent alone...Have you pined for me too, dear Bassy?"

Sebastian smiled lightly. "To be honest? I have missed you quite a bit, Grell."

Of all the responses Grell was expecting, agreement certainly wasn't one of them, and she blinked in shock as his answer registered with her. "R-really?"

The corners of Sebastian's mouth curled upwards. "Of course. We are just the oldest of friends, aren't we?"

"Well, I--I suppose." Grell stared at him, drinking him in. "Good heavens, where have you been for the past century? _I've_ been overseas, which explains why I haven't been around, but what about you? Nobody's seen head or tail of you since the Phantomhive contract."

Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly. "Here and there."

Grell's eyes narrowed. "You mentioned something about a James and a--a Christopher?"

Sebastian smiled pleasantly and mimed zipping his lips shut. "It'll do you no good sticking that long nose in where it doesn't belong, Mr. Sutcliff."

"That's _Ms_. Sutcliff to you, Mr. Michaelis," she countered snidely. "And you know, Corrections would have your ass for that. An unauthorized deal? You'd be in prison for life if they found out about that."

She held the serious expression for a moment more before dissolving into giggles at his apprehensive stare. "Oh, I'm just teasing you, silly. I'm no snitch. Besides, how could you possibly take me out for breakfast if you were locked up behind bars?"

Sebastian blinked. "Who said anything about breakfast?"

"Well, I believe I just did. Now, are you going to escort me there, or what?"

Sebastian cocked his head. "But won't you get in trouble?"

Grell smiled, showing off her teeth. "Probably. William will be _most_ upset with me, but that's a problem for a later hour. For now, all I want you to worry about is whether you'll be ordering eggs or waffles."

"But where will we go?" Sebastian asked. Grell considered this for a moment, and an idea quickly occurred to her.

"Oh, darling, I know! We could go to one of those--what are they called? One of those cafes where you can pet the animals while you drink your tea. I hear they're quite pleasant, and you'll be able to enjoy your two favorite things in the human world: tea and cats."

"Cat cafes? Yes, they _are_ pleasant. Grace rather enjoyed them. There's this one on Seventh Street--" Sebastian broke off, a faint pink tinge coloring his pallid cheeks. "Sorry. Being human for so long--you start to adopt their mannerisms, you know. You start to care about trivial things, like--"

"Like cat cafes," Grell finished for him. When Sebastian looked embarrassed, she cooed, "Darling, there's nothing to be ashamed of. I was human once too. I know how it goes, and besides, passion is not exclusively a human emotion. We're allowed to care about things just as much as they are."

"Yes, I understand that, but--" Sebastian tried to explain, but Grell held up a hand to stop him.

"Enough, dearest. You don't have to explain yourself to me, of all people." After smoothing down her shirt and ensuring that he wasn't going to continue trying to argue, she asked, "Well, show me this cat cafe of yours on Seventh Street. Let's see if it lives up the the hype, hmm?"

Closing his mouth, Sebastian nodded, and Grell held out her hand for him to take. After a moment of hesitation, Sebastian reached out and lightly grasped it in his own. Grell quickly put up her chainsaw so that it wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, and the two walked hand-in-hand into the street towards the cat cafe.

Sebastian had changed. That much was certain, Grell mused as they walked. He seemed more laid back than he had been the last time Grell had seen him, his shoulders held higher, chest puffed out a bit more. He carried himself more proudly. And, of course, the absence of the elaborate butler's uniform was the biggest difference. Now, he wore a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket, a pair of beat-up rubber-toed sneakers, and a strange slouchy hat that didn't seem to have a purpose other than constantly slipping off of his head. The absence of the ridiculous tailcoat was a bit unnerving, but comforting at the same time. Sebastian no longer felt like an intimidation tactic; instead, in his simple clothes, walking with her through the streets of London in the early hours of the morning, he almost felt like an old friend.

The cat cafe on Seventh Street had just opened for business when Grell and Sebastian arrived. It was a quaint little place, with clean tile floors and pastel walls. The blonde woman wiping down tables greeted them with a smile, and Grell politely returned it--she was a lady, after all--but Sebastian paid neither of them any mind. Instead, he quickly walked across the room to a little house that was sitting on a pedestal, stuck his arm inside, and retrieved a very large, very gray cat. He cradled it in his arms as he made his way back to Grell, and as he approached, she could hear what he was saying to it.

"Oh, darling Mittens, how I've missed you," he cooed, and Grell couldn't resist the giggle that fought its way up her throat. Even though she'd never particularly enjoyed animals, she made an effort for Sebastian, and when she reached out to stroke the cat's ears, she was pleased with how soft they were. Sebastian gave her a praising smile as Mittens squirmed in his arms. "You like her?"

"She's lovely," Grell supplied, and they both turned as a fat man with a fatter mustache wearing a large white apron approached them from behind the counter.

"Oliver, 'ow you doin'? Where's your frien' lil' Miss Fairbanks? Who's this?" he asked. Sebastian smiled pleasantly at him.

"I'm well, Mr. Whitmann, thank you very much. Gracie couldn't join me today. This is my friend Grell Sutcliff. She's visiting from America," he replied. Grell gave a little smile and wave, hoping that she wasn't coming off too strong. Apparently she wasn't, as Mr. Whitmann gave her a jolly smile and shook her hand.

"Pleased t' meetcha, Miss Sutcliff. Jasper Whitmann, at your service," he said. "Oliver here's a regular o' mine, so I know what he likes, but what can I get fer you? Tea?"

Grell smiled delicately. "Thank you very much, but I'm not big on tea. Do you serve coffee?"

"'Course we serve coffee! What'll you have?" He boomed.

"Just black, if you please," Grell replied, and Mr. Whitmann's mustache ruffled as he laughed.

"Whatever you say, darlin'," he said, and gestured to the woman who was still wiping tables. "That's m'daughter, Bethany. If you're needin' anything else, she'll be glad t' help you out."

"Thank you very much," Grell supplied, and Mr. Whitmann gave them one final smile as he disappeared behind the counter into the kitchen. Sebastian, who hadn't said a word throughout the entire interaction, chuckled.

"He's a character, isn't he?" He asked pleasantly, and Grell shot him a look.

"Indeed he is," she muttered. "Where do you want to sit?"

They ended up at across from each other at the table next to the cat-house, which seemed to make Sebastian very happy. Mittens sat in his lap contentedly, and another small, wiry black cat cat, who Sebastian had dubbed Carl, was slung across his shoulders, napping. Grell crossed her legs and folded her hands, watching as he played with Mittens's ears.

"So," she began, trying to sort through the millions of questions she had. "I know that I asked this already earlier, but where have you been for the past century and a quarter?"

Sebastian regarded her with cool eyes. "As I said," he repeated, "here and there."

Grell rolled her eyes. "Of course you have. I need _locations_ , darling! I don't need to know _what_ you've been up to, just _where_. I've been stuck on the same boring continent the entire time, but you've had the freedom to go wherever you please! Paint me a picture, dear. Give me something to get me through the next hundred years without blowing my brains out a second time!"

Sebastian considered this as he scratched Mittens behind the ears. "I suppose the where won't hurt anything. After Ciel, I remained in London for a short time, then followed Soma and Agni--you remember them, correct?--back to India for the remainder of their lives. Agni interested me, and he insisted that I came along, so I saw no reason not to. Once they passed on, I drifted through most of Asia and then headed south to Australia. I didn't care for it much there, so after a couple years I headed up to South America. I spent some time in Chile, then Uruguay, then a number of years in Brazil. The rainforests there are lovely, so many panthers!" He paused to scratch under Carl's chin. "After that, I came up through Mexico into the United States. I--"

"Hold on!" Grell interrupted. "You were in the States and you didn't tell me? What year?"

"Who knows? 1974, maybe?"

"'74...Oh, I believe I was in Seattle around that time. We weren't so close after all. But still!" Grell banged her fist on the table, causing Carl to wake up from his nap and meow irritably at her. Sebastian patted his head with a soothing hand. "I can't believe we were so close, even then..."

"Yes. Strange, isn't it? Anyways," Sebastian continued his story, "I came up to the United States and traveled along the South and East coasts. I met Christopher in Atlanta, and he and I--well, but I probably shouldn't tell you about that."

"Been making rogue deals, have we?" Grell asked slyly. "How unlike you, Bassy."

Sebastian smiled coldly. "Is it, though? I am a demon, after all."

"You can tell me about it if you want to, dear," Grell decided, leaning back in her seat. "I won't spill anything to Corrections. It was more than forty years ago now, anyways. They probably wouldn't even bother looking into it at this point."

"Fair enough." Sebastian opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Whitmann, carrying a tray loaded with coffee and scones.

"Here y'are, Oliver, your favorites. Earl Grey with mixed berry scones, and for the lady, black coffee," he announced, setting everything on the table in front of them. "If there's anything else you'll be needin', don't be shy to ask!"

"Actually," Sebastian said, "could you possibly bring Fish out here? I haven't seen him in a while."

"'Course I can," Mr. Whitmann replied, and without moving, turned around and yelled, "Marlene! Bring out Fish, wouldja?"

Grell watched, fascinated, as a young woman with long reddish-brown hair rounded the corner, carrying a sleek silver cat in her arms. She placed him on the ground next to Sebastian without saying a word and hastily retreated back around the corner from which she came.

"There y'are. Anything else, just holler," Mr. Whitmann finished, and walked back to the kitchen once more.

"He's a charming fellow, isn't he?" Grell asked after a few moments of silence. Sebastian nodded, barely paying attention to her as the newcomer sprang up onto his lap and settled down next to Mittens. "You know, I've never been overly fond of animals, but cats are decent."

"They're magnificent," Sebastian replied, petting Fish as he arched his back and purred. "They're the one creature on earth whose emotions I cannot gauge...there's just something about them that eludes me. And yet they're so intelligent, and agile, and--" He broke off with a soft sigh. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yes." Grell sipped her bitter coffee. "There's no need to be ashamed, dear. You don't have to be an emotionless shrew around _me_. We're friends. And besides, everyone needs a little humanity every once in a while."

Sebastian nodded, removing his hand from the cat and reaching for his tea.

"You know, I had no idea you liked tea. I had no idea you liked _anything_ ," Grell observed, and Sebastian stared at her from over the lip of his cup and shrugged.

"Earl Grey tea with mixed berry scones was what Gracie told me to order whenever we came here, so I saw no reason to discontinue that order," he answered, and Grell narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, yes, _that_. What exactly happened to Gracie Fairbanks, anyway?" She asked. Sebastian smiled pleasantly.

"Exactly what happened to Ciel, of course. She had a vendetta and was willing to do anything to fulfill it, so I was more than happy to help her along for a small price," he said.

"That small price being her soul, correct?"

"What else?" Sebastian chuckled and bit into a scone. "Of course, the way she went about it was a bit unorthodox, but it worked out in the end."

"Did it, though?" Grell countered, and when Sebastian looked confused, she continued, "There's no record of your deal with her, dear Bassy. Why did you think I was after you? She was on the to-die list, and her soul is nowhere to be found. Gracie Fairbanks wasn't anywhere near the demon-deal list. Whatever she agreed to with you, it wasn't official. As far as the rest of the shinigami know, some rogue demon stole her soul, and that demon, as it turns out, is _you_."

When Sebastian failed to respond to that, Grell swiped a scone and said, "So, anyways, continue from earlier. You made a deal with someone named James in Atlanta?"

"Wait," Sebastian said, "what do you mean, there's no record of our deal? I didn't even now shinigami keep records of demon deals in the first place."

Grell blinked. "Well, of course we do, darling. How else would we know which souls not to reap? If someone chooses to sell their soul to a demon instead of us, we have to know about it. Otherwise, we try to reap souls that are already promised to someone else, and in that case we're the ones in the wrong. We hate making mistakes because mistakes mean overtime and extra paperwork, and you know how much Will hates overtime and extra paperwork."

"I had no idea." Sebastian sat back in his chair. "I didn't know shinigami keep records of demon deals. I didn't...huh."

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore, dear. It's over and done with at this point, isn't it? So, back to your story. You were in Atlanta."

"Right, yes. Okay. Atlanta. Yes, I met a boy named James, who wanted to kill his nasty uncle, so he made a deal with me, and I helped him kill said nasty uncle, and the deal was done with. Clean and simple," Sebastian continued. "That was probably sometime in the 1980s. I don't keep close track of the years. Anyways, after that, I headed up north to New York, where I stayed for a while in Brooklyn. It's a nice city, New York. I would've liked to spend a bit more time there, but my kind are very territorial, and there was a large group of them in the area. I'm ashamed to admit it, but they forced me out."

"You poor thing," Grell sympthasized, and Sebastian shrugged.

"It was what it was. After that, I considered heading up into Canada, but decided against it. Instead, I stowed away on a cargo ship heading for France and spent some time in Paris. I started making circles around Europe, and eventually ended up back where I started: London. I met Gracie, and she wanted help getting rid of her family, and I was starting to get hungry again, and we made a deal, and, well here I am."

"That's quite an adventure," Grell summarized. "I'm surprised you didn't make any deals other than those two you mentioned."

"Well, I'm not as young as I used to be. I've found that my appetite has slowed with my age. These days, I tend to go for quality, not quantity the way my younger counterparts do."

"And aren't we glad you do," Grell oozed, finishing off her scone. Sebastian scratched absentmindedly at Fish's neck and watched her sip her coffee.

"I miss the coat," he said suddenly, and Grell raised an eyebrow. "The coat you took from the brat's\ aunt when you killed her. That red was a good look on you. Whatever happened to it?"

Grell set her cup down and smiled, and with a sudden _pop_ and a slight fizzing sound, she was draped in a large red coat that hung off of her elbows, tails brushing the floor.

"You mean this coat?"

Sebastian chuckled. "Yes, that would be the coat."

"I've missed it quite a bit myself, you know. One of the boys in American Collections threatened to have it banned for being 'too flashy', but that was just because we had a fight and he was looking for some leverage against me. I figured it would be better if I just took it off for a while than for him to go to the board and try to get them to ban it," she explained. "By the way, if we're giving each other fashion advice now, can we talk about that ridiculous hat of yours?"

"Goodness, yes. Grace made me wear it because she thought it looked 'edgy'. Personally, I don't see the appeal. All it does is fall off my head."

"Yes, although I do like it better than the suit and tailcoat," Grell supplied, taking another scone and pointing it at him, and Sebastian nodded his head.

"We're definitely in agreement on that," he responded, and they both smiled.

"That's a first. Who would've thought there'd be a day when a shinigami and a demon agreed on something, huh?" Grell asked.

"Well, who would've thought there would be a day when a demon took a shinigami out for tea and scones and called it friendship?" Sebastian countered, and Grell sighed.

"You've got me there." Realizing what he had said, she looked up and blinked at him over her glasses. "Hang on a moment, did you just call us friends?"

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. "Did I? I don't recall."

"Oh, Bassy, you do think we're friends! And here was me earlier, thinking that you were being sarcastic," she squealed, nearly knocking her coffee off the table with her dramatic flailing. The cats regarded her with apprehensive eyes as she settled down, as if worried that this wasn't the end of her outburst. "So, friends pay for friends' breakfast, right?"

"If in exchange, friends agree not to tell their superiors about the unrecorded deals that their friends may or may not have made," Sebastian countered. Grell pretended to think it over for a moment, cupping her chin in her hand and pursing her lips.

"Well, I suppose I can squeeze--"

"Oh, no you can't!" A new voice sounded from the doorway.

Grell and Sebastian both swiveled to see who it was, and with a delighted cry Grell sprang to her feet. "Will! Ronnie! What a wonderful surprise! I was just--"

"We know exactly what you were doing, Sutcliff," Will said stiffly, and Grell's face fell.

"There's no need for all that stuffy professionalism here, William. We're amongst friends," she replied, and Will glared harshly at her.

"Perhaps you are, Grell, but I for one do not associate with _his kind_ ," he said icily. Sebastian was scowling at Will, which would have been very intimidating if not for the cat still wrapped around his shoulders.

"I believe that it would be best if you left," he coldly instructed, and Will quickly rounded on him instead.

"I'll do nothing of the sort. You've made an unauthorized deal, which is illegal, not to mention putting my partner in danger--"

"Will, I'm not in any--" Grell tried to interrupt, but Will silenced her with a look.

"Go home, Grell. Let me take care of this. I swear, after this amount of paperwork, I'm going to--"

It happened so fast that Grell almost missed it. Sebastian shot forward like a bullet and punched Will in the jaw with all the force in his body. Will dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and Ron, who had been silent the entire time, gave a loud cry of distress. The blonde woman who was still wiping down tables jumped, knocking over a chair, and Grell hurried to her side.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked, and as soon as the woman had nodded, Grell was back at Sebastian's side.

"Did you kill him?" she asked, throat tightening at the prospect. Sebastian quickly shook his head.

"No, no, he's just unconscious. I didn't put too much force behind it. He'll probably wake up within a few hours. He'll have a raging headache, but I didn't do any lasting damage," he reassured her, and Grell relaxed, nodding.

"Well. Well, that's that, then, I suppose." She glanced at Ronnie, who was watching the whole interaction with reproachful eyes. "Will you help me carry him back?"

After a moment, Ronnie sighed. "Don't have much of a choice, now, do I?"

"Oh, thank you, Ronnie. I owe you a big one," she gushed, bounding to him and grasping his hands in her own.

"Better this than extra paperwork," Ron shrugged.

Grell quickly lifted Will up and placed him on Ronald's back piggy-back style, his head lolling to the side as his mouth gaped. Once he was secure, Grell turned back to Sebastian, who was watching them with an amused gaze.

"Darling, this has been the most lovely time, but I'm afraid I have to dash. My dear partner is feeling a bit under the weather, and I have to run home and take care of him," she sighed. "You bought a lady breakfast, so I promise I won't spill your secrets to the Corrections department. Just don't make any more unauthorized deals and we won't have any more problems, alright?"

Sebastian smiled and gestured for her to go. "Run home to your lover then, my dear. Breakfast was wonderful, and so was catching up with such an old friend," he replied, and Grell smiled so widely her face hurt. She left Ronald's side and quickly raced back to him, wrapping him up in a hug.

"It was so wonderful to see you, Bassy," she murmured in his ear, and after a moment, he relaxed and tentatively put his arms around her in return.

"And you, Grell Sutcliff," he replied, arms tightening for a moment before releasing her. After one last parting look, she skipped back to Ronald's side and gripped his arm, waving to Sebastian as they jumped back to the office together.

London really hadn't changed that much over the past one hundred and twenty six years, and neither, Grell supposed, had the friendships she'd made there just as long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> yep
> 
> this was just a dumb drabble that turned into a long ass oneshot but I think it's alright
> 
> drop me a comment if ur feelin up to it otherwise have a great day livin like larry


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